SHIELD in a Strange Land
by epicbttrfly24
Summary: He just wanted to watch a movie... Just wanted to have a normal night eating take out and learning about aliens. He did NOT want to wake up in a bizarre world where he was part of some magical investigation team with his brothers, looking for a murderer. He definitely didn't want to deal with domestic disputes between vampires, fairies, werewolves and a unicorn - oh my! A/U
1. Chapter 1

Usual Stuff: I own no one, nothing in WWE, no real or stage names. I get nothing out of this except joy of writing. I do own my own character Brynn. This story has quite a bit of swearing, a little humor, a little gore, a bit of magic and some general suspension of reality. There are TONS of cameos in this book, but the main characters are Dean Ambrose, Seth Rollins, Roman Reigns and an OC. *Enjoy*

XXX

Nights before RAW shows were always the same. Seth and Roman joined him in his hotel room. They ate take out… tonight's fare was both Chinese _and_ pizza since they couldn't decide. They watched some random show.

They were in Seattle tonight. He'd been here a couple times for live shows at Key Arena. It wasn't a bad venue, just the city seemed strange sometimes. The people were… odd. They had that bizarre Pacific Northwest feel to them. Hipsters, the whole fucking lot of them. Coffee and Birkenstocks seemed to be the most important things in their life. And plaid. Who the fuck wore that much plaid?

They always took turns choosing the shows that they would watch together. Seth would usually pick some shitty action movie. Roman leaned toward thoughtful dramas – sigh. But when it came to Dean's turn… oh those were the best nights.

Any show that he could find on ghosts, mythical creatures, magic in the universe. Anything that the cryptozoologists would document and release to the public. He loved them all. He would sit, entranced, as the footage of people searching for Bigfoot came on the screen. _Mysterious Monsters_ which describes Bigfoot in detail is still one of his favorite movies of all time. He got excited when there was a new series on Animal Planet, _Mermaids: The New Evidence,_ about a mermaid being found on the coast. The amount of information they had was mind-boggling. His brothers said it was a hoax, but he knew better. He knew it was real. All these things were real. It wouldn't make sense for all these magical beings to be seen throughout the ages and not _one_ of them was a legitimate thing.

Vampires, witches, werewolves. He knew them all. He had studied all he could about their lives, their actions and what their greatest weaknesses were. His brothers made fun, but he didn't care. This was what he loved. And it was a hell of a lot more believable than some action hero singly saving the fucking world by having all the fucking answers… in every fucking situation. Seriously, James fucking Bond? _Who_ the fucking hell knew that much about _everything_?

At least he didn't have to deal with James Bland tonight. Nope, he had found a decent documentary on a government cover up involving aliens, _The Hidden Hand_. He hadn't seen it yet, but he was sure that it would give him a greater knowledge into the way that aliens can infiltrate the earth. And reptilians? That just made sense for their leaders in government now. Oh yeah, he knew that this movie would make them all see just how much the government covered up this shit. Seth and Roman would come away knowing more than they ever wanted to about alien abduction and cover ups.

"What's the choice for this evening, uce?" Roman asked from his spot on the couch. He had popped open one of the beers and took a long pull before bringing up a slice of pizza to munch on.

"You're going to love it," Dean said excitedly. "It's all about how there are aliens in the government and how they are fucking in charge and shit. They're covering up all the alien landings and abductions." He looked seriously over to Roman. "I mean, wow, they could have infiltrated the WWE too. Think on that, brother."

Seth barked out a laugh from the kitchenette and walked over to the couch. "You know this is all bullshit, right Ambrose? I mean these aren't documentaries, they're fucking fiction."

Dean picked up a used napkin and tossed it at his head as he sat down. "This shit is real. You will thank me someday when we have to deal with something and I have all this knowledge. I could fucking save your life if we came across a werewolf… do _you_ know how to kill a vampire, even?"

"We've all seen _Buffy the Vampire Slayer_ , Dean, I'm pretty sure that all I have to do is stab it with a chopstick," Seth chuckled as he pointed his chopstick menacingly Dean's way.

Dean lifted a hand and attempted a karate chop to get the chopstick out of his face. Seth avoided his hand, brandished it like a sword and stabbed him in the chest.

"Ow, fucker, leave me alone and watch the fucking movie," Dean whined sullenly.

"Fine," Seth snorted and turned his attention to the screen. "Oh, for fuck's sake, _The Hidden Hand_? When was this even made? 2013? Shit, there's people who think this is real nowadays?"

Roman tried, unsuccessfully, to hide a snicker behind his bottle of beer. Dean shot him a glare. "This _is_ real, motherfuckers. Seriously. Just watch the movie and you'll see just how fucking real it is! I mean, Stephanie and Trips _could be_ aliens in disguise. Think of it! It makes so much fucking sense!"

Seth let out a cackle, "OK, that one is _almost_ plausible."

Roman chuckled and turned toward the TV as the credits began. Dean gave up on listening to his brothers and stared at the screen, happy to watch his movie choice. Fuckers be damned, he was going to enjoy this.

Dean was really getting into the movie. He couldn't believe how comprehensive the information was. The interviews were actually well thought out and the amount of evidence was amazing! It astonished him how much the government was willing to cover up. He completely ignored the snorts of disbelief coming from the other side of the couch during the recorded evidence parts. He knew Seth didn't believe this. He knew Roman was just indulging him. He didn't care. This was too good.

Halfway through a very important part the TV picture began to wobble. The movie flickered with static and he started to get frustrated. It was just getting to the interesting bit! Right when they started to interview a hidden high-ranking officer in the military, the screen blipped and went out.

"Fuck!" Dean exclaimed in annoyance. "Was just to the good part, too!" He picked up the remote and jabbed at the power button, trying to get it to come back on. Smacking the back of the remote with his hand, he attempted to get the batteries to work.

Seth took a drink and nodded while rolling his eyes, "Yes, the _good_ part…"

Dean looked over to him on the couch and reflexively punched him in the arm. "This shit's awesome. I don't make fun of your shitty action movies."

Roman raised an eyebrow at that.

"Too much," Dean finished with a mumble.

"Ow, motherfucker. It's not like it was my fault the TV fucking went out. Call down to the desk and see if they can fix it… or if there's a power outage or something," Seth complained.

Dean looked around the room, still bright from the lights that were on, and looked at Seth incredulously. "The lights are still on, Seth. Wouldn't a power outage be the whole fucking room?"

Seth shrugged, "Maybe just a breaker for the TV, then. I don't know, Ambrose, jeez. I'm not a fucking electrician."

Dean got up from the couch and walked over to the TV. He punched the power button repeatedly. Nothing happened. Stupid fucking tv. Stupid, fucking, not letting him finish his program, TV.

Roman rose from the couch and walked over to the room phone. He lifted the handle and dialed down to the front desk. "Yes, hello? We're in room 214… there seems to be an issue with our television set." He waited a moment and then said, "Yes, it just blinked out and we can't get it to come back on. Is there some sort of power issue?" He hummed for a moment as he listened to the person on the other side. "Oh, OK, sure. About how long?" The person said something else and Roman nodded as if they could fucking see him. Dean sighed, these things only happened on _his_ movie night. "Alright then," Roman said finally, "thanks a bunch. We'll be here."

He hung up the phone and turned to look over at the other two. "Well, it's not a power thing. They said everything is fine in the hotel and no one else has complained about anything. They're going to send someone up to check it out. It might be a few minutes, so we should just chill."

Dean groaned in frustration. Seriously, this was annoying as fuck. He turned his attention back to the television set and poked his head around the side to view the wires. Maybe he just needed to fiddle with one or two of them and they would be fine. Yeah, maybe he could just test all of them and the picture would come back so that they could see the rest of the interview about reptilians in high ranking offices.

"Deano, what the fuck are you doing?" Seth asked suspiciously.

"Nothin'," Dean grunted as he tried to put his whole hand behind the TV set that was firmly attached to the wall. He could almost reach the wires… he could _almost_ fucking reach.

"Ambrose, step away from the tv, man. The guy will be here in a few minutes to fix it and then we can get back to the aliens," Roman chided.

"Just give me a second," Dean grumbled, "I can see something there. Maybe… if I can… just…"

"Dude, you're going to make it worse. Just come sit down and eat come Lo Mein and chill," Seth groused. "We can't afford another hotel damage bill like we had in Salt Lake."

"Not fucking damaging shit," Dean mumbled sourly. "Didn't there, either."

Roman laughed loudly then turned it into a cough when Dean shot him a scowl. "Sure, uce, whatever you say." He sat down again and picked up his beer, pointing it at the TV. "Seth's right, though, come sit down and eat. They'll be here in a minute. The movie will still be there… we both _can't wait_ to see how it ends." He snorted, "It's very… enlightening."

Dean rolled his eyes. Why the fuck did he keep these fools around as friends? He ignored their protests and reached as far as he could with his arm. Just… right… there! He had the wire. It didn't feel burnt or anything. Good. He traced it up to the TV set and gave it a small jiggle. No, seemed to be just fine.

"Dean," Roman's rumbling voice interrupted him again. Oooh, he was pulling out the 'I'm in charge' voice, Dean thought.

"Yep?" Dean said innocently, his voice muffled from where his face was smooched up against the side of the television set.

"Sit down," Roman ordered softly. "Leave it alone. Seriously. Leave… it… alone."

"Almost got it Ro, just have to check the other wire," Dean said as he fingered the other wire along the way to the inlet to the television set. This one felt different. It was warm. Ah ha! That must be the problem. Now to just… push… it…

*ZAP*


	2. Seattle, Day Before Something

"Dean… _Dean_ ," Seth was whispering harshly.

Dean brought his head up with a snap then regretted it immediately. Pain blossomed through his head and thumped in his temples. He blinked his eyes open and then quickly shut them again. Too fucking bright. It was way too bright in the goddamn room. Ugh, fucking hell. He had been electrocuted. He had to have been. Stupid TV. Stupid wires. He knew this feeling. His fingertips felt horrible and waxy. His body was shivering with the shock. Nausea rolled in his stomach. Fuck. Worst fucking feeling ever.

"Hmmph," Dean groaned out, attempting to open his eyes again but decided against it. A hand shoved at his shoulder. Nice, Rollins, real nice, Dean thought, shove a guy when he's down, why don't you? "Lemme just sit here for a minute and recover, Rollins, jeeze," Dean grumbled. "That hit fucking took all the air out of me."

"Are you fucking _kidding me right now?_ I _barely_ tapped you. Get your shit together, Ambrose!" Was Seth's hushed, biting reply.

Dean opened one eye and looked at Seth's face. He was dressed in his Shield gear, hair pulled back in a pony tail, black vest tight over his chest. Huh, what the fuck was he doing in his Shield kit. They were _just_ sitting around in their workout clothes. Literally, _just_ sitting around in their shorts and shirts watching the fucking television. When did he fucking change? Blinking again, he looked down at his own clothes. He had on his tight black shirt and black tactical pants with his combat boots. Uh, did they dress him too while he was passed out? He knew they were brothers and all, but that was a bit far for his comfort zone. Nobody got to dress him… unless it was… well, those were thoughts for another time. For now, _what_ _the_ _fuck_?

He looked over at Roman, who was seated with them at a long wooden table. Two things… One: Roman was _also_ in full Shield regalia, hair pulled back in a bun and looking as menacing as ever as he glared at the two of them arguing. And two: where the _fuck_ was he?

"Are you two done over there or do I need to come knock your heads together? Pay attention!" Roman's hushed voice reached him, full of frustration.

"Um, done?" Dean brought his hand up to touch his head. Did he hit it? Was he in a coma? This had to all be a dream. There had to be an explanation. Were they in a creative meeting? Did he really just lose all that time from yesterday while he was watching TV with the boys to today where they were sitting in a creative meeting… in a HUGE fucking office in a sky-rise? He looked out the window. They had to still be in Seattle. He could see the waterfront and the Space Needle from where he sat. Pretty view… wait, why were they here? They should be at the arena for any creative meetings.

He turned his head to see the other people in the meeting, maybe that would give him more answers. His eyes widened in shock as he took in three people he did _not_ expect to be there. Corporate Kane was sitting at the head of the table, pointer in hand, gesturing at a picture on a huge screen. The picture was… gross. Dean couldn't _fathom_ why creative was making them look at something like this. What fucking direction was the Shield headed in if they had to look at a mutilated corpse?

The girl in the picture was dead. That much was evident from the blood, the giant fucking hole in her chest and the way her head was hanging off to the side in an unnatural way. Also… so much fucking blood. Nausea rolled up in Dean's stomach again. What the fuck was going on?

Corporate Kane was droning on about something, but Dean couldn't hear over the buzzing in his ears. He had been electrocuted… he had lost a whole fucking evening… and now, he was sitting here with creative looking at some gory ass shit on a projector screen while his brothers wrote down notes furiously.

Next to Kane sat Triple H and… Shawn Michaels? Both were paying attention and nodding frequently. Degeneration X was coming back? Were they planning on having some sort of horror type Halloween show? It wasn't close to Halloween, was it? Dean wracked his brain, trying to figure out what calendar day it was. Weren't they doing the shows just after WrestleMania right now? That was NO WHERE close to October or Hell in a Cell.

"Mr. Ambrose?" Corporate Kane's voice finally caught his attention. "Am I boring you?"

"Uh, no, I'm good. All good here, Mr. Kane. Not bored at all," he said as he tried unsuccessfully to avoid looking at the disfigured corpse on the screen.

"If I need to remind you that there are fiery consequences for those who do not pay attention and heed warning signs…" Corporate Kane's voice had dropped at least an octave and his face took on a threatening look. Dean's eyes grew large as he watched Corporate Kane's face, remembering all the fights with the Demon Kane. He shook his head slowly.

"At least that's what the fire prevention safety poster says in my office, anyway," Corporate Kane said with a shrug and a big toothy grin.

Dean let out a breath he didn't know he was holding and shot him what he hoped would pass for a smile. Shit, what the fuck was going on? He felt Rollins stomp on his foot and he shot him a glare. Fucking hell, stop beating me the fuck up… stupid Seth.

"Good, good, let's continue," Corporate Kane said in his normal voice, almost too happy at the prospect of describing the mutilated girl in detail. "Alright, this is what we know right now: there is someone or _something_ killing magical folk. Their hearts are missing, which makes me think of some sort of demon… hence you guys being called in. Not that demons are a bad thing," he chuckled self-deprecatingly. "No humans have been found so far, but they might be later, or they might be just being completely devoured." He said the last part with a nonchalant shrug. Dean's stomach was rolling in full force. Magical people? Humans being devoured?

"So," Triple H finally spoke up, "you three can see why we brought you in on this one. I know that there's not been much down time for you guys lately, but we could really use your help. You just finished that job regarding the trolls in Freemont, right?"

Seth nodded and said, "Yeah, fucking disgusting shits."

Dean's eyes widened at that. Trolls?!

Roman chuckled and said, "It wasn't so bad, H, just one of them took a slight fancy to Rollins here and tried to kiss him under the bridge. She thought it was romantic." He shot an amused look at Seth. "He disagreed and spent the next two hours washing his mouth out with Listerine."

Dean snorted, and Seth shot him a dirty look. "At least I _get_ play, fucker," he sneered under his breath.

"OK you two, although we appreciate the humorous show, enough is enough," Triple H said with authority. Dean glared at Seth but turned back to face the other man. "We believe that the person or thing responsible for this is looking for something. We're not sure what, but that's where you come in. You use those noses of yours and sniff out anything that's wrong in the city. You should be able to find it and hopefully eradicate it before it gets too much further out of hand."

Shawn Michaels finally spoke and said, "Yes, and if you would try not to get yourselves killed that would be beneficial to us all, since the time before the trolls was… messy, to say the least."

Seth hummed in confirmation and Roman averted his eyes. Dean looked at them in confusion. Messy? Just how messy were they talking if the fucking girl on the screen was a better fucking situation?

Roman looked at the three at the head of the table, then to his two brothers. He gave a nod to them and said, "I think we could help you out here. Usual fee. Half in advance, half when we figure this out. Wire it to the usual place."

"Good, good," Triple H said, tenting his hands before him and leaning on the table. "Just one more thing, there's been talk…" He cleared this throat and shot a glance at Shawn. Shawn nodded slowly as if giving permission, and Triple H continued, "There's been talk that there _might_ , and it's a long shot, but there _might_ be a unicorn out there who's in the middle of all of this."

Seth sucked in a sharp breath beside Dean. "Really?" He asked in awe. "I thought those had all died out ages ago."

"So did we, Mr. Rollins, but I have it on good authority that there have been sightings in the area over by Magnolia. We're not sure why a unicorn would make Seattle their home, but it would make sense that whatever this thing is that is hunting in our city would try to find it. And, we don't have to tell you, gentlemen, that would be _very bad for business_ ," Triple H replied.

Roman looked at Dean and Seth for a moment then said softly, "I thought only a virgin could capture one of them… according to lore, that is." A blush tinged his cheeks when he said this, and Dean couldn't hold back a snort.

Seth snickered as well and mocked, "Well we've got Ambrose, so if we need to capture it… it's all good, brother."

Dean shot a filthy look his way and stomped down on Seth's toes… hard. Seth yelped in protest and smacked him on the arm again. Dean shot a nasty smirk towards Seth. Bizarre fucking dream be damned, he wasn't going to be made fun of in a reality that he was making up in his sleep.

"Right, well, lore is, after all, just that," Shawn said. "I don't think the virgin thing comes into play. Besides, if there _is_ a unicorn out there we need to make sure it is safe from any harm. So, add that onto the current job and all should be good, yes?"

Seth nodded and replied, "Gonna add to the fee there Michaels, an extra… shall we say 50?"

Triple H choked on his coffee and slammed it down in front of him. He shot an un-amused look toward Seth. "50? Where the fuck do you think you are, boy?"

Shawn hummed in frustration and put a hand on H's arm. "We can do 50, just make sure there's no harm. And, also, make sure this whole thing is fixed without too much bloodshed." He arched an eyebrow at Dean and pointed a finger his way, "Can you do that, Ambrose?"

Dean's eyes grew wide and he gave a curt nod. Bloodshed? What the fuck did they just agree to?

The meeting adjourned and the three of them got up to leave the building. Roman walked out first, followed by Seth and Dean. Dean's head was swimming. For being a dream, this was pretty shitty. At least in most of his dreams he had some idea of what was going on. Here he was just confused and pretty sure that he had just agreed to something that might require them to actually kill something.

"So, what the fuck is up with you, Ambrose?" Seth said as soon as they hit the sidewalk outside the huge sky-rise. "I realize you're the fucking lunatic in our group, but that doesn't mean you have to almost ruin a fucking meeting about a new job."

"What? Uh, nothing's wrong?" Dean looked down at his shoes as he walked and tried to figure out why they were so fucking dirty. They were caked in mud and what looked to be dried blood. What did they do for a living in this dream of his?

"I hate to agree with Seth here, uce," Roman said. Seth snorted indignantly at that but Roman continued on, "You were in bad form up there. You know that those three handle most of the magical jobs in this city. They're pretty much our bread and butter lately… if we ate that shit."

Dean decided enough was enough. If this _was_ his dream, he could change it. He wanted it to be about wrestling and so, fucking dammit it was going to be about wrestling. "I was thinking about wrestling while we were up there… you know, the WWE? Where we work?"

Seth barked out a laugh and slapped him on the back. "I like how you call it _wrestling_. WWE, huh? I haven't thought of that place in ages." He shot a fond look over at Roman and said, "You reckon the Wolfssegen World Exclusivo misses us?"

Dean stopped walking and looked at the other two. "The fucking what?"

"Dude, stop it," Roman said with an annoyed huff. "You know we used to work for them… _you_ just brought it up. Why _are_ you acting so weird today? You drink a potion? Oh fuck, did you get into one of Sasha's potions last night? Is that what this is?"

"Sasha?" Dean asked, more confused than ever.

"Ugh, this is getting annoying. Dean fucking snap out of it and come on. We've got work to do. We've got a decent – non-troll – job, and the potential for a fucking unicorn! Let's head back to the office and start a plan," Seth snarled.

"Ookaaay," Dean said warily, then he had a thought. His wallet, he'd just look there. His license had his address in Nevada and he had all his wrestling ID in it and shit. Yeah, that would show these guys.

Reaching in his back pocket he pulled out his wallet and his driver's license. His eyes almost popped out of his head when he saw his face, fully sneering at the camera – OK, that part wasn't too weird. But the rest, well, that fucking blew his mind.


	3. SHIELD Inc

**Magical Persons License** :

 **Name** : Dean 'Lunatic' Ambrose

 **Address** : Go Fuck Yourself Lane

Wherever the Fuck I Want to Live, Universe

 **Eyes** : Blue Like a Motherfucker

 **Weight:** Keep the Fuck Out of My Business

 **Organ Donor:** If You Can Get 'Em, You Can Have 'Em

Dean stared at the license in shock. What exactly was this place that he was allowed to have that as a license. He thought, yeah, it was cool as fuck, but really?

Behind the license were a couple white cards. He pulled one out and read it.

 **S.H.I.E.L.D INC**

Protection or Investigation for All Your Demonic Needs

 **Message Phone** :

We'll Call You, Don't Even Try to Find Us

He stood there, stunned, business card in hand. So, they weren't wrestlers in this dream. That much was evident. So, they were some sort of magical law enforcement? No, they agreed to a fee. 50 dollars seemed quite paltry to him, but who was he to try understanding things right now. This was all so fucking confusing.

Dean looked up at his brothers who had kept walking and chatting about the case, apparently unaware of his existential crisis at the moment. He broke into a slight run to catch up. "So, guys, uh, the Shield, huh? We're some bizarre bad ass crime fighting magical trio? We're not wrestlers? We're not going to Key Arena tonight for the RAW show?"

Seth cocked a brow at him and gave him an annoyed smirk. "Are you serious right now, Ambrose? I thought we talked about you snapping out of whatever shit you're on."

"Deano, come on, enough is enough," Roman sighed.

"No, seriously, you guys, something weird is happening here. I'm a wrestler. _You're_ wrestlers. I mean, yeah, we're the Shield… but that's just some gimmick that creative thought up. We work at the WWE. We fight every night. We were _just_ watching a fucking movie on aliens!" Dean was shouting on the sidewalk now, waving his hands about in frustration. His friends were staring at him with a mix of confusion and frustration.

"Lunatic… always a fucking Lunatic," Seth mumbled and threw his hands up in the air.

"Don't you fucking call me that, Rollins!" Dean's arm moved of its own volition, hitting Seth hard on the jaw. Seth's head snapped back with the force and blood sprayed out the side of his mouth. He brought his hand up to cup his injured face and glared at Dean.

"What. The. Fuck. Brother?" Seth bit out with a snarl. "It's your FUCKING NAME!"

Roman stayed out of the whole thing, watching as Dean relaxed down from his outburst and Seth continued to rub his bruised jaw. He finally patted Dean on the back and said quietly, "Uce, what are you talking about? Wrestling? No, nothing like that, ever. And the WWE? I mean, yeah, we used to pull security for them when we were just starting out and they needed protection from the wolves. But, we haven't worked there for years. Not since we opened up S.H.I.E.L.D. Inc., anyway. Are you saying you don't remember this?"

Dean panted out a frustrated breath, "I'm Dean Ambrose, not the fucking 'lunatic' – I hate that shit, you _know_ that. I'm formerly Jon Moxley or Moxley Moxx. I came up through the indies. I worked tooth and nail to get into the WWE. I broke fucking lights over my back... barbed wire matches. You guys were there when I came up. You worked with me, we're a _team_ … we're the _best_ _fucking_ _team_." He groaned and brought his hand up to wipe his face in irritation. "I just want this dream to be about _wrestling goddamnit!_ Change the fucking dream!"

Roman's face looked more concerned than it had earlier. "Dean, uce, brother... we won't call you lunatic anymore, if that's what you want."

"Says it on his fucking license, Roman. He'll have to get it changed." Seth grumbled under his breath.

Dean glared at him and was tempted to punch the shithead again but thought better of it. He needed answers about this whole thing, and maybe punching his way to them wasn't the right choice for once.

He let out a sigh and dropped his shoulders in resignation. Fuck this dream.

"What are you talking about dream?" Roman continued as if he was talking to a small child.

Dean hated being patronized. He knew that was what Roman was doing right now. He decided to just go with the fucking flow. He figured he might as well play along at this point, no real reason to go against what was happening all around him. What did it matter if his life was imploding in a mass of confusion? It was, after all, just a dream… right?

He took a deep breath and steeled himself, "Nothin' brother, nothin' at all." He looked over to where Seth was standing, still fuming about the punch. "Sorry 'bout that, brother. Just the 'lunatic' being the 'lunatic' and all," he said with a shrug.

Seth eyed him dubiously, "So what, _now_ we can call you by your name again?"

Dean chuckled humorously, "Yeah, sure, whatever."

Seth nodded abruptly and apparently that was enough. "OK, let's fucking get back to the office then and figure this damn case out."

Roman slapped them both on the back and grinned. "There's my boys. All forgiven and forgotten."

Dean followed the two of them as they walked toward the corner of First and Pine. The tall building they stepped into was covered in glass windows. Roman went to an 'out of order' elevator and punched in a code. Soon, the car came up and they stepped around the caution tape and into the elevator. Roman again punched in a code and the car began to quickly descend. Dean reached out a hand to steady himself as the car sped up, passing the basement, passing the 5 underground parking levels and continuing to… well he didn't know.

Soon enough the car slowed to a stop and the doors opened with a ding. There wasn't even a dot that lit up showing what floor they were on. Dean thought of how 'Men in Black' this shit was, but then shrugged inwardly again. He was just along for the ride here, he might as well play along.

Seth walked ahead and opened an inconspicuous office door with no window. Of course, it wouldn't have a window, Dean thought. What was there to even see way the fuck down here?

He followed Seth and Roman into the entry to what he assumed were their offices. On the right, as he walked in the door, was a large wooden desk littered with paperwork and an old fashioned blue telephone complete with curled wired headset. Behind the desk sat… Bayley? Sure enough, there she was in all her colorful 'hugger' glory. Blindingly bright head bandanna and all. What the fuck?

"Hey Bayley," Roman said cheerfully. "Anything happen while we were out?"

"No Mr. Reigns, nothing at all." She looked down at her notes and tapped a finger on her chin. "Well, I guess there was a small complaint from a troll, but I took care of that." She looked over at Seth with a twinkle in her brown eyes and said, "I sent flowers."

Roman leaned his head back with a laugh and Seth turned four shades of red. "You didn't," he hissed.

"Well, she sounded so sad," Bayley said, face falling at the prospect of doing the wrong thing. "I just thought…"

Seth sighed and dropped his head into his hands. He mumbled through his fingers with a sigh, "It's OK, Bayley. Just no more, OK?"

Roman had contained his laughter to a small chuckle and patted Seth on the back. "Don't worry, uce, she can't find you here. You're safe from the troll she-beast."

Groaning, Seth looked up and shuddered. "You have no idea what it was like, brother… no fucking idea."

Dean chuckled then. He didn't know what kissing a troll was like, but it _had_ to be awful if Seth didn't even like it. He glanced over to where Bayley was organizing some files and noticed that she had turned around. She had… wings! Like, fucking fairy wings!

"Wow! Those are real?" Dean said as he reached out a finger to touch Bayley's wings gently. "You have real wings!"

Bayley spun around with an embarrassed giggle. "Mr. Ambrose! Um, that's, um, highly inappropriate!"

Roman looked over at Dean in shock. "Dude, you can't just _touch_ a fairy's wings without permission. That's, like, kind of intimate," he reprimanded.

Dean looked from Bayley to Seth and Roman and then back to Bayley, who at this point had a blush all the way up her neck and to her cheeks. He quickly snatched his hand back and stammered, "I'm, uh, shit, sorry, um, yeah. Didn't mean to."

Seth and Roman gave each other an odd look and then turned back to Dean.

"What the fuck, Deano?" Seth snapped. "You've lost it today. You're touching people without consent, you're acting all sorts of fucking weird. You even forgot your own fucking name!"

Dean dropped his head, ashamed at causing Bayley distress. He turned to look at her and gave her a small apologetic smile. "Sorry about that Bayley. I've just never seen a real fairy before. You've got such pretty wings and I just wanted to… I'm sorry."

She giggled again and came around the desk to give him a hug. He wasn't too comfortable with the prospect, but he figured after his fuck up she was allowed to do whatever shit to him and he'd just take it.

"It's not a problem, Mr. Ambrose. Although, that's a funny thing to say about never seeing me before. _You_ were the one who found me. _You_ hired me… remember? You didn't have a problem with my fairy status then… the only thing you said was only one hug a month." She told him with a genuine smile.

Dean looked at her for a moment and then at his brothers. They had permanent bewildered looks marring their faces. "Oh, yeah," he mumbled in embarrassment. "I just, um… it's been a weird day is all."

Seth sighed in annoyance, "Whatever the fuck is going on with you, Dean, you need to fix it, and quick. We have a case and we can't have one third of the fucking S.H.I.E.L.D. off their rocker." He gave Bayley a quick nod and said, "We'll be in conference. Please don't disturb us unless there's a death at the door. Or, maybe not even then, if it's a damned troll."

Bayley snickered behind her hand and nodded. "Will do Mr. Rollins."

Seth and Roman turned to go into an office, expecting Dean to follow. He shot a rueful glance and a shrug at Bayley, still embarrassed about the whole wing thing, and then followed them in.

The room was a nice size with a large wooden table in the middle. There were three overstuffed leather chairs that looked like they were sat in with regular frequency. He figured that each one of them had their own chair, so he waited until Seth and Roman sat down. He took the last empty chair and felt comfortable for the first time that day. Yes, this was his chair. It had formed to his body over the passage of time. He could feel it.

"OK, so I say we start by canvasing the areas where the attacks have taken place. There was one over in the Ballard neighborhood. That's Sheamus' area, right? We can go over to the Sunset and talk to him first." Roman said with authority.

Seth let out a whine, "I fucking hate vampires, Ro. Can't you and Ambrose cover this without me? They give me the fucking willies."

Dean's head snapped up to look at Seth. "Vampires? Like Dracula? Sheamus is a fucking vampire? Red hair, Irish... that Sheamus?"

Roman fixed Dean with a stern stare. "Dean," he said with a warning tinging his tone, "I _thought_ we talked about this… in length."

"Uh, yeah," Dean said quickly, "sorry. Just went somewhere else for a moment." There were real fucking vampires! Eat it Seth, Dean thought in excitement, I fucking told you so! _Buffy the Vampire Slayer_ has nothing on this dream!

"It's like you just fell of the fucking truck this morning, Dean. Please try to keep up. I mean, are you going to be like this all fucking day?" Seth asked.

"No, nope, no, definitely not. Staying on task now," Dean said with determination. He needed to focus. This dream was bizarre, yes, but he didn't want to spend the entire fucking time arguing with his friends.

"Good, uce, that's good. We can tell something's off. Are you sure you didn't get into any of Sasha's potions?" Roman brought his hand to his chin in contemplation, "Maybe you got hit with a spell or something. Should we take you in for a check-up?"

Dean shook his head violently, "No check-ups… no hospital. 'M good, I swear. I'm good. Just, uh, yeah, so Ballard? Uh, Sheamus and the vampires, right? We should definitely go there and check shit out."

Roman looked at him for a moment before nodding slowly, "OK, if you say you're good. Just, like Seth said, _try_ to keep your head in the game?"

"Head's on straight," Dean said quickly, hoping that was the right thing to say. "I'm ready to go to the Sunset." Whatever that was, Dean thought. "Seeing Sheamus sounds like a decent time, if you ask me."

Seth shot him a stunned look. "Decent time?"

"Since when?" Roman asked, incredulously. "You hate the motherfucker. You hate vampires more than Seth does!"

Dean whipped his head to look at Roman. He hated Sheamus? He hated vampires? Him? He loved all of this shit. How did he get to hate fucking vampires?

"Uh, I'm turning over a new leaf?" Dean said quietly.

Seth looked at him dubiously, "If you say so, brother. Don't expect me to like going there, though. I'm happy with the kind of fucking _leaf_ I am." He paused and looked at the ceiling in contemplation, "Might be able to see Charlotte there, though. She could have some answers about the whole murders thing and maybe an idea about the unicorn."

Dean smiled. At least he fucking knew who Charlotte was. And, if he was a guessing man… which in this dream he apparently was, he would have to guess that she was… "Let me guess, Charlotte's a banshee, right?"

Roman looked at him in frustration and dropped his face into his hands.

Seth groaned, "No! What the fuck, you fucking idiot? She's the Queen of the Damned."


	4. The Sunset Tavern

Dean decided the best bet was for him to stay quiet. He kept fucking things up whenever he opened his mouth and the guys were starting to get overly pissed off. It was beginning to stress him out. He didn't want to spend this entire dream getting frustrated and being in trouble. Besides, he had no idea where Ballard even was. So, for the time being, beyond the occasional 'this dream is so fucked up' rumblings from the back seat he let the whole thing slide. Might as well since apparently no matter how much he tried he just couldn't change this whole situation into a cool wrestling dream.

As they drove down Elliot Avenue toward where he assumed Ballard was located, he turned his head to look at the waterfront. He figured if he was stuck somewhere, at least it was a pretty cool looking city. And the water was decent to look at with the moon over it and shit. Too bad there were so many fucking clouds and the stars weren't really out. That was one of his favorite parts about living in the desert, the stars.

Seth and Roman spent the whole ride talking about the various strategies regarding vampire interrogation techniques, uses for tactical knives and their current RS146 weapons.

They had handed Dean his before they walked out of the offices with express orders that he _not fire at every goddamn thing_ this time around, and fucking keep it on stun. Dean had looked at the weapon in his hand in confusion. It looked like a small black baton. There weren't even buttons on it or anything. How the fuck was he supposed to fire a fucking stick? Think bad thoughts and point with a hope and a prayer? At least they had given him a decent looking bowie knife. He grinned genuinely when they handed it over. Although, he considered, why they had to keep his weapons from him was something he would have to ask them about later. If they didn't get to annoyed at him again bringing up the fact that he didn't know anything about what they did, that was. Maybe he should just as Bayley.

He thought this dream would be cooler if they had real weapons, not some fucking sticks. But, again, he kept quiet. He nodded in acknowledgement when Seth gave him a pointed look and a short lecture while he was handing over the weapon. He mumbled in agreement when Roman reminded him that they weren't going to the Sunset to kill anyone right then and to please, please for the love of all the magical creatures in the world, keep it in his pants tonight. Dean arched an eyebrow at that, but figured that Roman meant the black stick not his… never mind.

Their black SUV rolled up to an unassuming brick building with a couple window displays. There wasn't a way to see into the tavern, but the large triangular glowing 'Sunset Tavern and Betty's Room' sign displayed the location for all who were walking down the street. Loud music poured out onto the street from behind the door. People milled around them as they walked toward the entrance, ignoring the three men dressed in full black tactical gear. Dean kept looking for someone to either notice them or worse yet, run screaming for help because they looked so menacing. But nothing like that happened. A couple walking down the street hand in hand glanced their way and nodded a greeting. That was it. No one cared that they were armed (with sticks) and potentially dangerous.

"Huh, Betty's Room? Who's Betty?" Dean wondered out loud, immediately regretting the decision to speak. He should probably know this if they had been around the city so long. Fuck, Seth was going to just give him another odd look or a lecture.

Instead, Seth snorted and looked over to him. "I thought you knew that, brother. Weren't you there when Sheamus got all plastered on fairy blood and moaned about the sign being wrong? It was supposed to be 'Becky's Room', but the people who made up the signage fucked it all up and he was left with business cards, signs and decals saying 'Betty's Room' instead. Poor fucker, just wanted to do right by the Phoenix, but he couldn't even get that right. I think he stayed drunk for a week afterwards and she refused to speak to him for days."

"Phoenix… yeah, Becky Lynch?" Dean asked, hoping his question wouldn't start another reprimand about how he was being an idiot.

"Mhmm," was Roman's only reply. He wasn't paying attention to Dean and Seth anymore. His attention had been drawn by the huge form of the doorman.

Dean broke into a huge smile and chuckled. It would figure that Braun Strowman would be a fucking doorman for vampires. Wait, he thought, _was_ he one? That didn't really make sense. He was so… large.

"Ugh, why he had to hire giants for security is beyond me," Seth groaned under his breath.

"Probably because Ambrose fucked up the whole place last time we were here, and he didn't want a repeat," Roman said, dryly.

Dean looked from Roman to Seth and tried to figure out if it was a good idea to ask about last time. He knew that he was a little crazy sometimes, but they were making it sound like he was some insane fucking murderer or something. Besides, he wanted to see a giant… and Braun being one made sense.

Walking up to the door without giving his brothers a second glance he waved at Braun. "Hey buddy, long time no see. How's the family?" He asked with a smile.

Braun squinted his eyes at him and crossed his hands over his chest. "You're not comin' in here Ambrose. Not after last time. You're barred for life. Sheamus would be very put out if you were to do that same shit again."

Dean pasted on his best innocent look and tried a full smile, dimples and all. "Aww, Braun, my man, my chum, mi compadre. I have turned over a new leaf. Just ask my brothers there," he said pointing behind his shoulder. "They even think that I'm crazy for my new way of life."

Braun snorted and looked over to Roman and Seth who were standing there with their jaws open in shock. Ok, so maybe it wasn't normal for him to just go up and have a chat with people. What did he normally do here? Just break in to places, shoot first and ask questions later? That sounded stupid. He liked this method better, it allowed him to meet more magical folk!

"Changed, huh?" Braun looked at him suspiciously.

Seth choked on a cough and Roman patted him roughly on the back. Dean shot them an innocuous smile and shrug.

Roman came up to Braun and said, "Look, we have no idea what's going on with him, actually. But, he's not going to do anything in there tonight." He looked at Dean for confirmation and Dean gave a quick nod in affirmation. "See, he's good. We just need to chat with Sheamus really quickly then we'll be on our way."

Braun shifted in front of the door, eyeing Dean through narrowed lids. "You have weapons? You leave 'em with me."

Roman huffed in annoyance, "No, no deal. We've got permits to carry anywhere in city limits. You know that. Sheamus knows that. Dean's good tonight, we'll keep him in line."

"OK," Braun grumbled, "but any funny stuff and you get these hands."

Dean bristled at being someone who had to be 'kept in line' but he remained quiet about that part. He _really_ wanted to get in the bar and see his first real vampires! Smiling again and nodding in confirmation he said, "I'll be on my best behavior, Braun-o. Scout's honor." He held up his hand and gave the 'live long and prosper' sign which got a snort out of Seth.

Braun huffed an annoyed breath but stood to the side, letting them proceed into the Sunset Tavern. Dean looked around and was immediately giddy at the realization that there were vampires here! He was around real fucking vampires! Wait, did he need garlic? A wooden stake? A chopstick? He chuckled and followed Roman as he went over to the bar. Nah, they'd be fine. They had their black batons, which he still had no fucking clue how to use.

Sheamus stood behind the bar, wiping down a large mug with a glower. His pointy red mo-hawk seemed to glow even more. If it was possible, he was paler than Dean remembered. His head shot up when they walked toward him, and he narrowed his eyes. His face fell to a definite scowl and his eye teeth poked out over his bottom lip.

"Feckin' barred you from this establishment, Ambrose. How did y' get in? Slip th' doorman a feckin' pretty stone or some small child to eat?" Sheamus growled.

Seth patted Dean on the back and looked at Roman with distaste. "I'm not dealing with him tonight. I'm going to go mingle, see what I can find out. You two deal with the surly motherfucker. Or, should I say, _mother-sucker_." Seth cackled at his own joke and turned to lose himself in the crowd. Dean watched him go, noticing that no one seemed to care that he was freely mingling around with vampires. Huh, maybe Seth came here more often than he let on.

Dean turned back to Sheamus with a smile. "Hey Sheamus, how's it hangin'?"

Sheamus looked at him for a moment as if trying to figure out if Dean was going to jump over the bar and attack him. Dean kept the smile on his face and tried again, "Uh, nice place you got here. I like the… décor."

Sheamus' eyes went wide, and he looked at Roman who just shrugged and rolled his eyes. "Th' feckin' décor? What y' on about, Ambrose?"

"Just thought we could start over, man," Dean said, extending a hand for Sheamus to shake. His face was starting to hurt from all this fucking grinning. Jeeze, he must really be an asshole in this fucking dream world if no one believes him when he's trying to be a little nice.

"Feckin' start over…" Sheamus mumbled grouchily, ignoring Dean's offered hand. "Y' want t' start over? I don't feckin' like demons. Never have, never will."

Dean let out a strangled cough and Roman shot him an odd look. Demons? What did that have to do with anything?

"Uh, yeah," Dean said slowly, sitting down at the bar, "never liked the bastards myself. Just came here for a drink and a chat."

Roman was full on staring at him in disbelief now. It was a little disconcerting to say the least, but he wasn't about to let anything get in the way of his first conversation with a real fucking vampire.

Sheamus' brow furrowed in confusion and he ran his tongue over his pointed teeth. "Seems an odd thing fer _you_ to say."

Dean shrugged, "What can I say… Lunatic and all."

Roman broke in then, probably hoping to salvage any of the conversation that he could. "Hey man, we're just here to ask a couple questions about the stuff that's been going on lately." He looked around and leaned in to lower his voice, "You had a murder behind the bar two nights ago. One of yours. You know anything about that?"

Sheamus' eyes seemed to fill with genuine sadness. "Yeah, she were one of ours. Wee mite, never did no one wrong." Dean lifted an eyebrow at that. Weren't vampires all supposed to drink blood and cause general horror themselves? Sheamus placed the mug he was wiping on the counter in front of Dean and filled it with a green liquid. He pushed it toward Dean with a grunt and said, "Might as well have a drink if yer gonna take up space at me bar."

Dean eyed the smoking drink suspiciously. What kind of beer was fucking green? Was it St. Patrick's Day? He looked over at Roman who nodded and signaled to Sheamus that he'd have one too. He sat down and occupied the stool next to Dean while he waited for Sheamus to pour his drink… the same green viscous liquid.

Roman took a long pull from his glass after it arrived and nodded to Sheamus in thanks. "So, any news you've heard would be helpful, man, we're just trying to find who's responsible and bring some justice their way."

The vampire looked at both of them for a moment then nodded slowly, "I might 'ave heard somethin'. Mebe. But it'll cost ya."

Roman groaned beside him and Dean looked over to him. They could offer money, he supposed. It seemed like a little bit went a long way in this world. "Five?" Dean offered.

Sheamus barked out a laugh and Roman whipped his head to look at Dean in annoyance. He whispered harshly, "Seriously, bro, what the fuck is wrong with you tonight. You can't just offer up five without so much as a conversation with Seth and me. Fuck, I'm thinking we _should_ have you checked out."

Dean looked at him in confusion. It was just five fucking bucks. What did it matter? "Roman," he whispered back, "do you mind if we offer him five dollars to give us some information?" He figured he might as well do this right if he was going to do it.

Roman stared at him for a long while then shook his head. "Five dollars? _Five dollars?_ Dude, you just offered him _five million_!" He shouted, losing all semblance of the calm man that Dean knew.

Oh, shit…

"I'll not take that offer from your boy there seriously, Roman, I can see he's been touched in th' head," Sheamus chuckled, his grin showing the pointy teeth glinting in the low lights of the bar.

Dean dropped his head in his hands. Fuck fuck fuck. He just couldn't get it right in this dream world. Reaching out to grab the drink he had avoided, he took a long swallow. Bitter burning hot liquid scalded his throat. He started coughing and quickly brought both hands up to his throat for some relief. What the fuck was that drink? And why didn't Roman seem to have any reaction to the fact that it burnt like a motherfucker?

Roman slapped him on the back in an attempt to help him. Not that it did. Dean's eyes watered, and he pushed the drink away. "What the fuck is this stuff?"

Sheamus looked affronted by his words and snatched the drink back from him. "Dat there's th' best Demon Brew in all th' city! Y' daft bugger, 'tis yer favorite! At least that's what y' say when y' come in here 'n get pissed every time I let you in. Then y' go 'n wreck th' damn place."

Dean looked at Roman who was holding his drink mid-air, one eyebrow cocked as he regarded his brother. "Uh, turning over a new leaf. Going sober. Sorry 'bout the drink, Sheamus. Didn't mean to insult you."

Sheamus nodded and turned to pour the vile brew out into the sink behind him. Roman leaned over and whispered, "Uce, seriously, Demon Brew _is_ your _favorite_ fucking drink. What is going on?"

Dean looked at him and shrugged. If that was his favorite drink in this world, he hated to find out what some of his least favorite things were.


	5. Dean Attempts Negotiations

"I'm just not in the mood to drink tonight is all," Dean mumbled. Especially not that horrible shit, he thought to himself. Best not get on the wrong side of this conversation again, however, he thought, best to just keep fucking quiet… Jeez, he'd fucked up so much already. Groaning in frustration, he dropped his head into his arms and leaned forward on the counter.

Roman looked at him for a moment and then nodded slowly. He turned back to Sheamus and said, "Look, Ambrose's shitty ability to negotiate aside, we really would like some information about whatever is going on with this shit. There's been at least two vampires killed and their hearts taken."

Sheamus looked horrified at that information. "What?! Their hearts? Dat sounds like some demon shit right there… no offense," he said while shaking his head.

Roman nodded and said, "None taken." Wait… why would Roman be offended? Before Dean could ask, Roman continued, "There's been one werewolf that we know of and," he dropped his voice so that no one around could hear them, "there's even talk about a unicorn."

Sheamus' eyes grew wide and he stepped back from the bar. He looked from Roman to Dean and back to Roman again while stroking his red braided beard. "Unicorn?" He whispered. A grin split his face and he rubbed his hands together in glee. "Think o' the drinks that can be made from th' blood o' a unicorn!"

Dean snapped his head up at that. "You want it?! Just to get its blood?! You…" he clenched and un-clenched his hands in fists, his face growing red with anger. "You fucking vampire!"

Sheamus chuckled and looked at him oddly, "Yeah, that's right. Good fer y' fer statin' the obvious." Arching a brow toward Roman he asked, "What's wit' yer boy tonight? He's never cared one whit 'bout folk giving their blood fer the Demon Brew. Or fer any o' my other fine drinks fer that matter." He looked back at Dean and leaned in to see if maybe something was off in Dean's eyes.

Annoyed with his proximity, Dean batted an arm out at Sheamus, pushing him back. "Fuck off, Dracula. How do I know you're not trying to bite _me_?"

Sheamus guffawed and slapped him on the arm, genuine humor twinkling in his eyes. "Dean, I like this new leaf, I truly do. You're welcome back in me bar, anytime." He shook his head and chuckled, "Drinkin' from a demon, ain't that one fer the books."

Dean looked at him in confusion. What was he talking about drinking from a demon? Unicorns are pure and beautiful. They're as far from being demons as they could possibly be. Fuck, he just wanted to get this shit over so that he could wake back up and watch his damn alien movie.

"Yeah, so, let's ignore him for the moment, Sheamus," Roman said in a strangled tone. It annoyed Dean to be ignored so blatantly, but he was pretty sure that if this conversation kept going the way it was, _Roman_ was going to be the one doing the strangling.

Sheamus nodded and grabbed a rag to begin wiping down the counter in front of the two of them. "Sure, like I said though, 's gonna cost ye. I may be losin' people I know, but it's not like I turned 'em. If y' want information, you'll have t' give me somethin' I need."

"OK," Roman said in resignation, "First, who turned them? I need to know for the investigation and I think that's a show of faith bit of information. If you give me that, we can negotiate from there."

Sheamus stopped with the unnecessary cleaning and brought his finger up to tap his teeth. "Alright, sounds fair enough. She did. They were both hers."

"Fuck," Roman swore under his breath.

Dean didn't like being in the dark anymore. This was stupid. This was _his fucking dream_ , he should at least be involved.

"So, they're _hers_ , that's fine. I'll go talk to her later about the whole thing," Dean interjected before Roman could say anything else. Roman whipped his head to look at Dean in horror, but Dean wasn't going to back down from this. He was taking charge, fuck the consequences. He didn't know who 'her' was but, fuck it, at least he knew he shouldn't offer any money. Besides there couldn't be anything _that_ _horrible_ for him to deal with. It was, after all, a dream.

"What do you need?" He asked, before Roman could protest.

Sheamus looked at Roman as if he needed permission to continue. Dean growled low in his throat… huh, he'd never made _that_ sound before. Cool, he wished he could do it in real life. That would be awesome to bring out in the ring. But… back to the growl. Sheamus was paying attention to him again. Yay for growling! He'd have to do that more often.

"Baron and his guys have been annoyin' Becky lately. Take care o' him an' we'll have a chat," he said finally.

Roman groaned, "We're not doing a domestic, Sheamus."

"Baron Corbin? Tall guy? Tattoos? Fucking grumpy? Lone Wolf? No problem." Dean said.

Sheamus nodded, looking a little confused. He glanced over at Roman again, but Roman was just sitting there with probably the angriest look Dean had ever seen on his face. Even angrier than when Sheamus came out to take the fucking belt from him. Too bad the anger seemed to be directed toward him tonight and not so much Sheamus.

"Sure, I can deal with Baron. He did after all come after my belt and couldn't take it. We've tousled a bit. Shouldn't be too hard to get him to back off of you," Dean mused.

"Dean… what the fuck are you talking about?" Roman hissed. "When the fuck did Baron try to steal your clothes? Did you two… you know?" Roman asked as he tilted his hand back and forth.

Dean's eyes grew wide and he barked out a laugh. "No dude…" Then he paused, wait, did he? He hadn't been able to control anything else in this dream. Did he and Baron… nah. No way. First, he was too tall for Dean's liking. And second, nope nope nope.

Sheamus, for his part stayed quiet, thankfully. Dean could feel his cheeks turning red and he hoped that the two men didn't think that he and Baron… not that there was anything wrong with that… but Baron?!

Dean cleared his throat and attempted to continue with negotiations. "OK, so we go handle Baron and his crew and you'll chat with us about whatever you know? Sounds like a deal. Shake on it?" Dean extended his hand to Sheamus for the second time that evening but this time the large Irishman shook it. The lack of warmth gave Dean the willies. He tried not to make a face when he touched the man's frigid skin, but he probably didn't succeed.

Roman groaned and dropped his head into his hands with a mumbled 'fuck'.

Seth appeared at Dean's elbow and slapped him on the back. "Ambrose, you're sitting at the bar! And it's still standing! I'm so proud." He looked at Sheamus and nodded his head, signaling for a drink. Sheamus turned to pour another vile disgusting horrible green monstrosity. Dean's stomach lurched at the thought of _anyone_ being able to enjoy that fucking mess.

"Yeah, Sheamus is happy with my new leaf, brother. Looks like the lifetime bar is lifted," Dean grinned at him.

"Nice, nice," Seth said, "Charlotte's not here tonight. She's probably holding court over in her house in West Seattle. I don't think that it would be a good idea to go over there tonight. There's rumblings of some sort of angst within the ranks, and I hate getting in the middle of all that shit." He glanced over at Roman then leaned over to pat him on the back. "Reigns, bro, you OK there? You look like someone pissed in your brew."

"Mmbrse smead ed berl mth Brrrn," Roman mumbled into his hands, refusing to look Seth's way.

"What?" Seth asked, looking to Dean for answers. Dean shrugged. Why was Roman so bent out of shape? It was only Baron. Only one guy. He'd taken him on a fuck ton of times. Yeah, he's tall and all, and surly as fuck, but anyone can have a decent chat. And, if not, there's always a decent right hook.

Roman lifted his head from his hands and looked at Seth with probably the most miserable face that Dean had ever seen on him. "Ambrose said we'd deal with Baron."

"WHAT THE FUCK, AMBROSE?" Seth yelled out in the bar.

The music screeched to a halt and every vampire head turned to look their way. Dean looked over the sea of pale faces with fangs and started to get quite uncomfortable. How did Buffy deal with it? He quickly grabbed his pocket and fingered the baton, not that he knew how to use it still. But, it was a weapon and at least that gave him _some_ sense of security.

Seth was livid. He was pacing up and down the bar mumbling about lunatics and negotiations and some other shit that Dean wasn't paying attention to. Dean quickly waved to the crowd of vampires and nodded that they should continue with their business. The music started back up and the crowd turned away from the three at the bar, apparently ok with the fact that Seth was going crazy. Maybe that happened frequently. Dean had no clue. He had no fucking clue about anything. Seriously, fuck this dream world, what the fuck had he managed to do now? He didn't give away all the pretend money. He didn't shoot anyone with his fucking lame ass black baton. What the fuck?

"Dude," Seth was unraveling before Dean's eyes. His eyes were a bit wild and he was running his hands repeatedly through his hair. _He_ could have been the lunatic right then. "Dude… fucking a, Ambrose. Don't you remember the last fucking time we got mixed up in a domestic with Baron and Becky? Do you _not fucking remember the carnage?_ " He yelled.

"Um," Dean replied, trying to think of the worst possible scenario he could. Baron. Lone wolf. So… wolf? "Werewolf?"

"Fucking duh, idiot. We're not even getting _paid_ this time around. Do you remember how long it took to get my shit straight again?! Do you fucking remember having to buy all fucking new equipment?! Jesus fucking Christ, man, you are shit at negotiating. I have no fucking clue what you've done with your brain today, no fucking clue, but for the love of shit find it and fucking screw your head on right."

Dean dropped his head as Seth read him the riot act. It would be easier if he could know the background story for his character in this dream world. It would be a whole lot easier if he was just a fucking wrestler, at least he would know what to do then. Taking a deep breath, he decided that all that cryptozoology information would come in handy here. He would show them that he wasn't stupid. No, he had some answers, damnit.

"I'll just get some silver or something. We'll be fine," Dean said with more confidence then he felt.

Roman furrowed his brow and tilted his head to one side, "Dude, that's against ordinance 317 of the HTMPA."

"The what now?" Dean asked before he could stop himself.

Seth huffed out an annoyed breath and said sternly, "The Humane Treatment of Magical Persons Act… don't you ever read _anything_ that comes across your desk? No, wait, don't answer that. You know what, I'm done with tonight. I want to go home and wash off vampire stench from my clothes."

Sheamus grunted indignantly, "Hey!"

Roman looked over to Sheamus and dipped his head down in an apology. "Sorry, Sheamus, it's been a long day for us. Not that that is an excuse for rude behavior," he arched a brow toward Seth. "Or for general loss of all mental capacity," he said while fixing his gaze on Dean. "We'll get out of your hair for tonight. We'll be back when we have a chat with Baron. Say hey to Becky for me."

Sheamus nodded, still looking quite insulted by the whole conversation. Dean got up from his bar stool and gave him a little wave. "Nice to chat with you Sheamus, glad you were my first."

"Yer what?!" Sheamus yelled as the trio turned to walk out of the bar. Dean gave another little wave to Braun as they passed him on the way to their car. "See you around, big guy," he called cheerfully.

Seth grabbed his arm and bodily dragged him to the SUV, opening the back door and all but shoving him in the back seat.

"Hey, what the fuck, Rollins!" Dean cried out as he fell into the back seat.

"That's what _we'd_ like to fucking know. Seriously, Dean, the werewolves? That's what fucking Shawn was talking about! We're supposed to try to stay the fuck _alive_!" Seth sighed out an annoyed breath.

Roman got into the driver's seat and turned to look at Dean, "You really…" he paused, sighing. "You know what, let's just go back to the office and then go home. I for one think that we all need a decent night's sleep and we'll tackle Baron tomorrow." He gave Dean a pointed look, "No going off to fight Baron alone, Dean. I don't care if you do have some sort of fling going with him."

Dean sputtered his protests at that, "I don't have a fucking fling going with him. He tried to steal the fucking belt off of me! I _fought_ him."

Seth looked at Dean confused, "Why did he want your belt? Does he not have his own clothes?"

Dean ran his hand down his face in frustration. He really needed to shut up. He really needed to sleep and maybe wake up from this ridiculous fucking nightmare. He needed to go home. Fuck! Where the fuck was home?


	6. Home Sweet Home

The rest of the ride back to the office passed in stony silence. Roman was probably confused and more than frustrated at Dean. Seth was just livid at the turn of events. Dean didn't like this world at all. He thought that meeting all these cool magical beings would be the best thing to ever happen to him in his lifetime, instead he was just fucking it all up. Royally.

They rolled up to the parking garage and went over to the super-secret out of order elevator. Dean watched this time as the code was punched in, just in case. 12182012. Huh, that was their Shield WWE debut date. Dean wondered how they had picked that code for their elevator, but he'd willingly be fucked by Baron before he would ask either of his brothers right then. He had a feeling they were at their limit with his questions or general fucking things up.

Bayley was still in the office when they returned. She shot them a small smile and blushed a little when she looked at Dean. He felt the embarrassment from their earlier misunderstanding creep up to his cheeks as well. Shit… seriously, fuck this world.

"Welcome back you guys, did you have any joy?" Bayley asked.

Joy? Was that some sort of code? Dean shifted his eyes from her to the guys, not answering. He was _not_ going to answer. Just keep the mouth shut, Ambrose. Just keep quiet.

"Ask this fucker," Seth griped while pointing at Dean.

"Mr. Ambrose?" Bayley looked at him intently.

"Uh, it was OK? Sheamus was cool. He's got awesome teeth; did you know that? And the bar décor isn't that bad." Dean mumbled.

Seth threw up his hands in irritation and turned away from the group with a huff. "Fuck this shit, I'm going home. I'll see you two tomorrow at around two before we go see Baron. Fix whatever you're on, Dean. Fucking… ugh!" With that he turned, grabbed his set of keys from behind Bayley's desk and walked out of the office for the night.

Bayley called out her goodnight to him as he slammed the door and turned to face the other two. "You're going back to see Mr. Corbin and his crew? Do you need me to prep the fire-proof gear? Oh, shoot, um, I don't know if your pants are back from the tailor's, Mr. Reigns." Bayley looked down at her files on the desk, flipped through them and hummed in slight exasperation. "I told them I needed those to be fixed as soon as possible. We can't have you just catching fire like last time, can we?"

Dean snapped his head to look at Roman who was standing near the desk, eyes closed while pinching the bridge of his nose. "Don't worry about it Bayley, I'm sure we won't get into the same issues as last time. Becky isn't going to be there and I'm sure that Baron can reign in Renee this time around. Also, Dean here seems to have some sort of personal relationship with Baron now, so we should be able to work with that."

Bayley looked at Dean in shock. "You and Baron?!" She squeaked with a grin. She started to clap her hands in excitement and ran around her desk to give him a giant hug. "I'm sorry, I know that's more than double my quota this month, but _I'm so happy for you!_ "

Dean ran his hand over his head and scratched the back of his neck, feeling more and more aggravated. "I'm _not with Baron_. Look," he said as he peeled Bayley off of him, "it was all a misunderstanding. Um, we fought once or twice and Roman seemed to think that I meant something else when I was talking about it."

Bayley sighed and said with a pout, "But you're so lonely… you need…"

"That's enough Bayley, we're going to call it a night. You are free to leave now. We'll see you tomorrow. Please be here by one to open up the offices," Roman's low voice rumbled, cutting her off effectively. He walked around the desk and grabbed another set of keys. Turning to Dean he said, "Look, brother, I don't know what's up with you today. I understand the job gets to you sometimes, it gets to all of us. But seriously, we need you straight for this."

Dean chuckled and arched a brow, "Then stop with the shit about Baron if you need me straight."

"That's _exactly_ the kind of crap I'm talking about," Roman said with an annoyed huff. "You're not like this. You're _never_ like this. Whatever you need to do tonight to get yourself OK for tomorrow, do it. Come back ready to fix this situation you've gotten us in, and please, please, don't do anything destructive." He turned to nod his goodnight to Bayley and shot a pointed look over his shoulder at Dean. "Seriously, bro, no fucking with anyone tonight… and hand in your weapons to Bayley before you head home."

With that, he left the two of them in the office. Bayley smiled and reached out a hand, waiting. Dean looked at her in confusion then remembered the stupid baton and sweet knife. With a sigh, he took them out of his pockets and handed them over to the bubbly secretary. He didn't really know what to do then. Where was home? He was supposed to know this shit. His wallet didn't have an address and the guys had left him alone.

Groaning in frustration, he decided that he would just have to face the music and ask Bayley. "Um, hey do you know where I live?"

Bayley's eyes grew large and the blush that had receded earlier bloomed in full again. "Are you asking me over tonight? I don't think that would be a good idea, Mr. Ambrose. I mean, especially if you're going to be with Mr. Corbin. He's kind of territorial." She whispered.

Dean gave up, he fucking gave up. He leaned over and dropped his head on her desk with a thump.

Bayley tentatively patted him on the shoulder. "Mr. Ambrose? Are you and Baron having troubles? Do you need someone to talk to about it? Is that why you need me to come over?"

"Ugggghhhhh," was the only thing that Dean was capable of saying at this point. Lifting his head, he gave her his most pleading look. "I'm so lost here, Bayley. I just need to know where I live. I need to go to sleep and forget that I'm even here and hopefully wake up in my real life and all this will be a bad bad memory."

She gave him a confused look but nodded. "Uh, you live on the waterfront, Mr. Ambrose. You stay at the Edgewater. At least you have since I started here."

The Edgewater? Wasn't that a hotel? Why did he live at a hotel?

Dean cleared his throat and looked over at the key rings behind the desk. Besides the keys for the black SUV that Roman had hung up when they got back, there were none left. He looked back at Bayley and hoped that she wouldn't mind telling him a little more about his life, because how the fuck was he supposed to get there? Walk?

"Uh, so I drive the SUV?" Dean asked cautiously.

"Not that I've ever seen. Usually Tyler just comes and gets you, or you take a cab. I've actually never seen you drive anything. Do you need me to call Tyler? I can have him come get you… or Dango if he's there."

"I fucking live with Tyler Breeze and Fandango?!" Dean almost shouted in the quiet office.

Bayley shrank back from his outburst and Dean immediately felt bad. Fuck, OK, so he lived with Breezango. He could handle that. He could handle anything at this point to get him into a fucking bed so that he could wake up in his real life.

"Nooooo," she said quietly, "they work there?"

Sighing Dean just nodded. Great, at least he didn't have to deal with the fact that Breezango was his roommate. "I'll just take a cab, mind calling one for me?" He looked in his wallet and noticed a significant lack of funds. "Uh, can you spot me a couple bucks for fare?"

Bayley shot him an odd look. "Just use your thumbprint…" She leaned her head to the side and stared at him intently, "Mr. Ambrose, I'm not trying to pry here, but are you OK?"

"No, no I'm not, Bayley. I'll be fine tomorrow. Just need to sleep and wake up… just need to wake the fuck up."

"OK then," she said with a wary smile, "I'll call you a cab."

Dean waited outside the office for the cab to pick him up. Apparently, everything worked on thumbprints here, so he had no clue how much money he had. But, he assumed, if he lived at a hotel he had to have a few bucks. Why live there instead of finding some apartment somewhere?

The cab dropped him off in front of the huge waterfront hotel. It was pretty nice, much nicer than he was used to. He must make a bit more money in this world than he did in the real one. Standing by the door was Tyler Breeze in all his ridiculous attire. Why did the man think that tassels were even remotely appropriate? And for someone who worked at a hotel, no less…

"Mr. Ambrose! You're home early," Tyler said with a smile. He took out his phone and shot a selfie while leaning against Dean. Dean crinkled his brow and frowned in irritation at being part of the picture, trying to step away from the blond man.

"Awww, why did you have to go and make such an uggo face? You usually give me such a sweet smile. Those killer dimples, you rogue hound, you…" Tyler said as he batted a hand on Dean's arm.

Dean felt like his head was going to explode.

"Sorry Breeze, just an off night," Dean mumbled. He steeled himself and put on his best smile, "Try again."

Tyler giggled and shot another selfie of the two of them. Smiling he brought the camera down to look at the picture. "See, I'm so beautiful and you are soooo handsome. Perfect! Dango will be so jealous that I was on the door tonight."

"Uh, yeah, no problem." Tyler looked like he normally did in a wrestling ring. He didn't look magical at all. Dean wondered if he was just a human in this bizarre dream. "Hey… so answer me this, um, are you something… uh, special?" Dean asked, knowing he would probably regret continuing this conversation.

"Special?! Of course, I'm special! I'm Tyler Breeze. I'm _gorgeous_! I'm the best siren out there… make any man or woman want me at any time!" Tyler said, affronted by the fact that Dean seemed to question his ability to attract someone. "I mean Dango comes close, but no one… and I mean no one is like me," Tyler said while flipping his blond hair behind his shoulder.

"Oh, OK. Cool," Dean said in confusion. Weren't only _women_ supposed to be sirens? Ugh, he didn't want to talk to Tyler anymore. He just wanted to get to his room, wherever that was.

"Are you saying you need someone special tonight, Mr. Ambrose? Dango and I are free later on if you would like… _company_ ," Tyler said seductively while running a finger down Dean's arm.

"What?! No!" Dean shouted quickly. Then, taking in Tyler's injured expression he lowered his tone, "No, thank you, I meant. I'm tired. And, um… yeah. I just want to get some sleep."

"Fine," Tyler sniffed, "just know that for an uggo, I consider you above average, and I wouldn't mind lowering my standards… so you know the offer is there."

Dean's cheeks flamed for what felt like the millionth time that day. "Thanks," he muttered. He cleared his throat and asked, "Hey, so what room am I in anyway? I don't appear to have a room key in my wallet."

Tyler looked at him with uncertainty, "You own this place, Mr. Ambrose. You have a set of penthouse rooms? You just punch in your code to get to them and the elevator opens directly there."

He owned this hotel? Well that explained the lack of apartment. Now to just figure out the damn code. Ugh, why were there so many fucking things he was supposed to know in this world? "Hey, um, so about that code?"

Tyler let out a snort, "Yeah, well no one thinks that 0000 is a great code either, but we're not about to go against the boss."

Dean nodded and said his goodbyes to Tyler, who immediately went back to taking pictures of himself in front of the hotel. Duck face and all. Rolling his eyes, Dean made his way to the elevator and punched in his code for the penthouse. Hopefully his room would be inviting, and the bed would be soft. That's all that really mattered right then, and maybe some food.

The doors opened to show a nice, albeit sparse hotel penthouse. The view of the waterfront was amazing. Looking around Dean noticed that there were no personal touches. There was nothing that gave him an idea of what his life was like here. He walked over to the fridge and opened it, hoping to find something to snack on. Inside, there was a six pack of beer. Thank the gods, he needed a proper drink after this clusterfuck of a day… no wait, upon closer inspection it was that foul fucking Demon Brew. Seriously? Fuck.

In the freezer there were plastic baggies of some sort of frozen green meat. It looked a bit like liver, but the neon green color was so off-putting that Dean immediately gave up on the idea of eating. No fucking thank you!

Walking over to the nightstand, Dean noticed a few magazines – Mercenary Monthly, Weapons Weekly, Magical Creatures and How to Humanely Kill Them and… fucking Pixie Monthly?! Dean opened the Pixie Monthly magazine and quickly shut it, blushing again. He had no idea that wings bent that way!

Plopping down on the bed with a resigned sigh he closed his eyes and wished that he could go back home. He would give anything to get back to his other hotel room with cold pizza, real beer and his brothers. He would even watch the damn James Bond movie.

Turning on his side, he looked out the window and watched the light of the moon sparkle on the water. He lay there for a long while contemplating this new fucked up world before sleep finally claimed him.


	7. Still Fucking Here

The buzzing in his ears wouldn't stop. Of course, it wouldn't stop, he had been electrocuted. He just needed to lie there for a minute more and then he would be ok. He could get up and finish the movie. Ugh, his head was pounding.

Fuck… the buzzing…

Hazarding one eye open, he looked around the hotel room and his heart dropped. "Fuck."

He was in his hotel room alright, but it wasn't the one he wanted to be in. No, this was the hotel on the waterfront, the one he _owned_. The one he wanted, beyond anything, to be out of right then… "Fuck."

Sighing, Dean got up from his bed and groaned at the movement. He hadn't even undressed last night before falling into bed. Might as well get the day started if he was going to live in this world for the time being.

The buzzing continued…

Looking around he noticed that the alarm clock was blinking 7 am and that was the infernal noise. "Fuck," he muttered again as he pounded a fist down on the alarm clock. The buzzing ceased.

With a sigh he started toward the bathroom and took a shower. Might as well not smell like shit if he was going to be stuck in this shitty world. The hot water did nothing to calm his annoyance at being stuck in this fucking dream world. He tried to figure out ways he could wake himself up. Electrocution brought him here… maybe? Uh, wait, what would happen if he died in here? Would he die in real life? Wasn't that a thing? Like if you fell while you were dreaming and actually hit the ground, didn't you die in real life? Maybe he shouldn't be too rash about this whole fucking situation. Maybe he should just let the dream ride again. It couldn't last too long, could it?

Looking into the wardrobe after his shower, he was more than disappointed to see a lack of jeans and tank tops. Instead, he was greeted with at least fifteen black under-armor shirts and ten sets of black cargo pants. He noticed a distinct lack of underwear… huh, maybe this world's Dean didn't like them either.

After dressing and getting himself as presentable as he could… stupid hair… he decided a decent breakfast was in order. He needed some sustenance in order to deal with what he knew was going to be a shit day.

x

The looks from the employees that he got as he walked into the restaurant were quite odd. It was like he never showed his face there, but that couldn't be right. He fucking owned the place, why not eat there. He wondered for a second if they were going to ask him to leave, but dismissed that thought quickly.

"Uh, Mr. Ambrose, sir," a very flustered host greeted him as he walked into the restaurant. "Were you meeting someone here today? I didn't get a notice that you would need a table or anything…" His sentence faced off as a flush filled his cheeks and he quickly leafed through the hosting book in front of him.

"Nope, just hungry. Thought I'd come down and grab some food before I leave for work," Dean smiled, trying to assuage the young man's fears that he had fucked some situation up.

"Hungry?!" Now the young man looked positively purple. Why wouldn't he be hungry? It was morning. He hadn't eaten the whole time he was in this fucking world and his stomach was grumbling. He wanted fucking food.

"Yep. Mind if I sit and have some chow?" Dean pressed, trying to keep a chipper demeanor when he really just wanted to sigh and give up on the whole fucking situation. This place was too goddamned weird.

"Yes, yes… erm, right away. Please, uh, follow me," the host bumbled while leading him to a window seat. Nice view, but Dean was pretty much over it. He just wanted food and this whole fucking dream to be done with.

A waitress came over quickly and hovered over him while he looked at the menu. "Are you sure you don't want a different menu? Maybe something to your… uh, specific tastes?" She whispered after a moment.

Dean looked at her in confusion, "No? I think that just some bacon and eggs should be fine… and maybe coffee. Yeah, that sounds good."

"B… bacon? Eggs and coffee? Uh, really? Like eggs from a chicken? And bacon… from a pig?" She stammered.

"Yes? Is that going to be a problem or something? Are you out? Do I need to go get food somewhere else?" Dean was more than baffled about the fact that this was a _restaurant_ that didn't seem to want to serve him. What made it worse was that it was _his fucking restaurant_ , if he owned the hotel, that was.

"No, no… no, right away. Um, bacon… from a pig. Eggs, from a chicken. And coffee," she finally said after staring at him in awe for a moment. She turned and walked back to the kitchen, shaking her head as she went. Seriously, what the fuck was wrong with people here?

Soon enough he had a full breakfast in front of him and the smell was delicious enough for his stomach to let out a large growl. Oh, how he was looking forward to a normal breakfast. He grinned to himself as he lifted his first bite of eggs to his mouth, waiting to appreciate the… what the fucking hell!

Sawdust. That's all he tasted. The food tasted like absolute shit in his mouth. It was worse than sawdust, it was… ugh. Maybe that's why he didn't come here that often. If the food tasted this fucking bad, then people probably avoided the restaurant in general.

Looking around the room he noticed that other people didn't seem to mind the food. In fact, they seemed to be actually enjoying the slop. Maybe the kitchen hated him… maybe they were mad that he was the boss?

He dropped his silverware and pushed his plate away. Lowering his head into his hands he let out a groan. What the fuck, seriously, what the fuck…

"Is everything OK with your meal, Mr. Ambrose?" The waitress asked tentatively. Like she knew… she knew. She had to know.

"Lost my appetite. Thanks anyway, what do I owe you?"

"Uh, nothing, I'll just get this out of your way then." She gathered the dishes and quickly walked off before he could say anything else. Really, fuck this place.

It was only nine. He wasn't due back at their offices until one. No breakfast. No coffee. No food. No happiness. Just a magical fucking land where he was confused all the time and nothing to do until later.

Passing by the front desk he noticed Fandango dancing behind the computer. Hiding a chuckle, he waved.

"Hey Dango, how's it hangin'?" He asked. Maybe Fandango would be able to answer some of his questions without being weird.

"Mr. Ambrose! Tyler said that you might be looking for some company. Are you? I am off in twenty minutes… oh the things we could get up to!" Fandango smiled and ran a hand down his chest through his way too tight colorful collared shirt that had more buttons undone than were necessary.

Dean shook his head violently as his eyes grew large. Seriously, were all his employees so fucking… blatant? Did he usually take them up on this shit? Oh god, he thought as he brought his hand up to rub his temples.

"No, thanks, appreciate the offer though. Um, I was just wondering if you could tell me what I normally do around here, like before I go into the office or whatever," Dean asked.

"Around here?" Fandango asked as he whirled around in a circle with his arms outstretched. "Why, Mr. Ambrose, you are rarely here. You are usually out and about."

"Where?" Dean pressed.

Fandango sighed in slight annoyance and gave him a pointed look, "How should I know?"

Sighing, Dean said his thanks and asked him to call a cab. He might as well explore the fucking town before he headed into work. Maybe he'd go back over to the Sunset if it was open. Or go see trolls! Oooh, that sounded fun.

Before he could think any more about it, though, Fandango called out to stop him. "Mr. Ambrose, sir! You have a call."

He walked over to the front desk and answered the phone. At least he couldn't fuck up a phone call. "'lo?"

"Ambrose, Reigns. Hey, Seth and I need to meet you later than we had planned. Something's up with the Charlotte and Seth's in a snit. You know how he gets." He sighed loudly on the phone and Dean murmured an agreement. He _did_ know how Seth got, in his world anyway. It probably wasn't much different in this one.

"You better today? I mean if you need a sick day or something, we can just adjust the whole searching for a mass murderer…" Roman rumbled through the line.

"Fuck you, Reigns, I'm fine. Better than fine. Back in fighting form. Ready for anything…" He hoped.

"Good to hear, brother. Anyway, mind if we just meet you over at the Doghouse later on? I mean it was _you_ who said that you would be fine there with Baron. So, it shouldn't be a problem, right? You're not going to freak out or anything? You'll be good?" Dean huffed out an annoyed snort at that. What was he here? A fucking child?

Roman continued as though he hadn't made any noise. "They should be there now if you wanted to head over, and with what you told us yesterday I don't see any reason why you wouldn't be OK there alone." Roman snickered, "Just try to keep your clothes while you're there…"

Dean wished he could punch someone through a phone. Maybe in this world he could. He tried, much to the amusement of Fandango, but only succeeded in scratching his knuckles on the headset.

x

The Doghouse Bar and Grill sat in what the cab driver said was the Industrial District. Dean could see the stadiums for the Seattle sports teams from the sidewalk. He didn't know much about the Mariners or the Seahawks, but sports teams were pretty much the same across the board except for those from Cincinnati. Those were the best.

He was a little concerned that he didn't have any weapons, but it's not like he knew how to use them anyway. He walked toward the entrance and was pleasantly surprised to see Bo Dallas sitting outside, reading a book. Bo looked calm and quiet, like he normally did behind the scenes. Dean shot him a smile as he walked up to the door.

"Hey Dallas, how are you today?"

Bo looked up from his book and seemed ready to reply until recognition filtered across his face and he scowled at Dean.

"What are you doing back here? You can't come here, Baron won't let you in. You know that. Don't even ask," he said petulantly.

Dean chuckled. Apparently, he had gotten himself barred from every fucking place in Seattle. What the fuck kind of shit did he get up to here?

"Hey, just here to see if I can talk to Baron, don't plan on doing anything weird," Dean said in what he hoped was an innocent voice.

Bo looked at him doubtfully. "No, my alpha said no, that means no."

"Your what?" Dean asked.

"Alpha… wolf… Baron? You know, the guy you're trying to see? The guy in charge of our pack?" Bo answered slowly, as if talking to a complete imbecile. Of course, Dean felt like one in this dream, so that was no big change.

"Ah, yes, alpha. That would make you… an omega?" Dean prompted.

Bo bristled as if Dean had insulted him. "I'm a beta, _thank you very much_. I know _you_ don't think I'm much. You made that _very_ clear the last time you were here, but I've worked my way up the ranks. Baron trusts me. And since he does, you are not coming in. You're not talking to anyone. You can turn the fuck around and leave."

Shit, always saying the wrong fucking thing. Dean raised his hands in an apologetic gesture. "Hey, congrats man. Beta. B-team! That's… uh, that's great! I'm proud of you. Really. All that hard work paying off. Sounds like you're someone that Baron can truly trust with pack shit and all." Dean had no fucking clue what else to say. What were you supposed to say to a _werewolf?_ Especially one who was apparently insulted. He just needed to talk to Baron. He just needed to get back into the good graces of his fucking brothers in this dream. He just needed to _wake_ _the fuck up_.

Bo arched a brow at him and sighed, "Yeah? Well not everyone thinks that way here. Uh, thanks." He put down his book and regarded Dean for a moment before coming to a decision. "Wait here, I'll see if Baron wants to chat. Don't try to come in… you know how bad that will be. Renee is here, and she's still pissed off about last time."

"Renee? Uh." What?

But Bo had already gone into the bar. Dean stood there with his hands in his pockets, scuffing his boots against the sidewalk. This wasn't so bad. He hadn't stuck his foot in his mouth that much. Bo seemed OK. Well, OK for a werewolf, he guessed. Also! He was _talking to a werewolf_!

Soon the door opened and there stood Baron. He had on his biker vest and those stupid patched pants. Fuck, he was taller and bigger than Dean remembered.

"Ambrose," Baron nodded curtly, "what the fuck happened that I deserve this _pleasure_ today? You here to try to burn the fucking place down again?"

Dean shook his head and said, "No, um, I just wanted to ask about the whole Becky thing?"

Baron narrowed his eyes and sniffed. His eyes grew wider and he leaned his head toward Dean's neck. He grabbed a hold of his arm, pulling him close and sniffed deeper. Blushing, Dean balled his hand into a fist. Did werewolves usually invade personal space like this? Was this some sort of normal thing? Was he going to have to punch him? This seemed strange.

"What the fuck is going on here?" Baron asked incredulously, pushing him away and rubbing his chin while looking at Dean.

"Not sure what you mean, just here looking to chat," Dean said in what he hoped was an even tone. Fuck, he wished he had Seth and Roman here. They would understand this shit. He didn't even know what he was supposed to ask Baron about.

"Who the fuck are you?" Baron asked, anger causing his eyes to flash golden.

"Uh, Dean Ambrose?"

"No, you're not. You don't smell like him. You're not him. Question is, why would a fucking shapeshifter take the form of Ambrose of all fucking people? It's not like it's a benefit or anything, fucking waste of a…" Baron said slowly.

Dean's hand moved without him even realizing it. His right hook caught Baron off guard and the man's head snapped back with the force of the hit. A growl came from Baron that if Dean wasn't sure this was a fucking dream would have scared him witless. As it was, he was pretty sure that nothing bad could happen here.

Baron dove toward him and tackled him to the ground with another deep growl.


	8. A Conversation With Death

Dean had to stop waking up like this, he thought as he groaned out in pain. His head hurt. He felt like he couldn't even open his eyes this time. No, it was worse than that, he had on a fucking blindfold! And he was tied to a fucking chair! What the ever-loving fuck was going on. He remembered talking outside the bar. He remembered Bo, then Baron. And Baron getting all touchy feely. Fuck. He remembered the punch and… oh, shit. He had been attacked by a werewolf. Didn't that mean he would turn into one?! Was that why he was tied up? They were waiting for the change and didn't want him to get all fucking crazy. Ugh, like he didn't have enough to deal with in this fucked up place.

He groaned again, trying to free up one of his hands so that he could get the damn blindfold off. Where was he? It smelled like stale beer and wet dog.

"Ah, so you're up, I see. Good, good… just relax. We'll get you out of there in a moment, if you follow directions, that is," someone said in a low, gravelly voice far from where Dean was sitting.

Grunting, he tried to wiggle out of the restraints again, but it was really no use. They were tight, and every time he moved they got tighter. "What the fuck, man, get me out of this shit. I didn't do anything to deserve getting fucking hogtied and blindfolded. Seriously, where's Seth and Roman? Get me the fuck out of here or they'll be all over this place like fucking… well, I don't really know, but they'll be mad and bring in their sticks of doom to shit all over you and whoever else is here."

There was a quiet chuckle and an "I'm sure of it." He heard rustling of clothing as the person came closer. It was a man, he could tell that much by the voice. Whose, he didn't really recognize.

Dean felt the person lean in close to him and bring a hand close to his head. He flinched back automatically, not wanting to die right then. Although, maybe he would get out of this fucking nightmare of a place if he did die. But, then again, he'd probably just wake up with another headache in another fucking bizarre situation.

"Hold still, I'm going to take this off and we'll have a small chat," the voice said calmly. He _knew_ that voice. No, no fucking way…

As the blindfold was removed, Dean was brought face to face with the dead eyes of the Undertaker. Oh great, just fucking great. What was _he_ in this fucked up world? Voldemort? No that was Harry Potter, fucker, that's not real. However, considering all that had gone on in this place, what _was_ real?

They were in a cellar, that much was evident. It was also night. Fuck, how long had he been out? The walls were a dark brick and there was a lone half-moon window off to one side, with bars of course. Why wouldn't there be bars? The cement ground looked like it had seen a few fights in its time. Dried blood pools covered small areas of the floor near beer casks stacked on the side of the wall. That couldn't be sanitary.

Dean eyed the Undertaker warily as he pulled a chair up to sit across from him. He set it backwards and straddled it, his full cloak falling to the ground while he rested his chin on folded arms on the back of the chair. "Taker? What are you doing here?"

"They called me to see what was going on with you. Baron said you smelled a little off. Frankly, he shouldn't have been able to take you down like that, not without a better fight at least. You've taken him on before with much better results. So here we are, you and me. I did a little diagnosis of my own and, after a little bit of investigation into your personal magical signature, I can tell you're not Dean Ambrose… at least not the one we have all come to know," the Undertaker said slowly, gauging Dean's reaction to these words.

"Yeah, I could have told you _that_. I'm Dean Ambrose – general fuck up, wrestler, Titty Master, Mox, and any other fucking thing you want to call me… but I'm no werewolf fighter and I ain't got no fucking _magical signature_ , that's for sure," Dean spat out vehemently. He growled out in pain at the outburst, fucking headache from hell.

The Undertaker regarded him curiously for a moment with an arched brow then reached in his cloak. Dean shrank back… what if he had a magical black stick too? Instead, he pulled out a small vial of silver liquid and unstopped it. He brought it close to Dean's mouth, but Dean kept his lips closed in a firm line. Fuck that noise. He wasn't going to force any fucking random vile tasting shit down Dean's throat if he had anything to do with it. It could be something that would cause his skin to melt off. Or worse, his balls…

"Take this. It will help your headache," the Taker urged quietly.

Dean looked at him suspiciously. "How do I know you're not trying to kill me?"

The Undertaker snorted. "I could kill you with a _touch_ , boy," he said with too much calm for Dean's liking. "If I wanted to kill you I would have, and you wouldn't have even woken up from your attack. Baron called your friends… if they are _your_ friends. And they reached out to me. Luckily for them, I was off duty and didn't need to go pick up any souls tonight."

"Souls?" Dean asked, not sure if he was more confused about the fact that the Undertaker could kill with a mere touch or the fact that he was having this conversation with the Undertaker at all.

"My weekend job, moonlighting as Death," the Taker shrugged. "It's not a bad gig, actually. I meet some real decent folk. I mean, yeah, I kill them all, but still they're pretty nice most of the time."

Dean coughed in shock and fear blossomed in his chest. "You're _Death_?"

"Not right now," the Taker chuckled. "It would be a pretty dull life if all I did was kill people all the time. No, tonight is an off night for me. So, here we are… ancient wizard and you. Whatever you are." He still held the vial close to Dean's face and offered it once again. "It's a headache potion, boy. Nothing bad. If you would prefer, I could get one that Sasha has made, but I taught her everything she knows so my stuff is always going to be better," he looked downright annoyed at the fact that Dean was refusing him right then.

Giving in because he didn't want to get touched by Death right then and die some horrible, miserable death in a fucking psycho world, he took a small drink. Immediately warmth filled his body and his pounding headache faded into nothing. Huh, that would be a super helpful hangover cure in the real world.

"Feel better?" The Undertaker asked with a small smile, knowing that he obviously did.

"Yeah, uh, thanks. And about what you said earlier, Seth and Roman _are_ my fucking friends. We've been friends for years… brothers even," Dean grumbled.

"Hmm," was all the response he received.

"We have! I've fought by their side for fucking years! We came up together, we know each other… I'm pretty sure I'd do anything for them. Wait, they're here?" Dean asked finally.

"They're upstairs with Baron. You caused quite a… scene here. Although, as far as I've heard, that's pretty much what you do wherever you go," Taker smirked at him.

"Yeah, I'm figuring that out," Dean mumbled. He pulled on his restraints again and looked over to the large man seated in front of him. "Do you mind taking me out of this shit? I'm not too fucking partial to being tied up and it's _definitely_ not one of my fucking kinks."

The Undertaker laughed outright at that. "I'd like a chat first, Mr. … Ambrose?"

"Yes, we've established that's who I am. And you're the Taker, or Death on the fucking weekends apparently. Now that we know each other. Mind if I finish this conversation untied?"

"No, sit. You're fine. Now tell me truthfully, who are you? You don't register as a normal demon hound. You don't register right at all, actually. I've not seen anything quite like it. It's like a mix of… well, never mind. You tell me," the Undertaker fixed him with an unwavering stare.

Dean spluttered a moment. Demon hound? He was supposed to be a fucking demon hound? Like the fucking Hounds of Justice and shit that creative came up with? Wait, that sort of made sense. Everyone here seemed to fit into what they were in the WWE. Baron – wolf, Tyler – wannabe sex fiend, his brothers – demon hounds. That didn't explain Sheamus, but he _was_ really pale.

"I'm not a demon," Dean said slowly. "I'm a human, or at least I think I am. I'm a wrestler. I'm just dreaming right now. This is all just some really _fucked_ _up_ bad dream that I will wake up from and will tell Seth and Roman about. Then they'll laugh at how stupid I am. We'll eat some pizza. We'll drink some beer. I'll finish my damn movie, and everything will be right again in my world."

"It's funny how you say, 'your world', like it's a different one than this," Taker said almost too quietly for Dean to hear.

"Yeah, well I _know_ my world, and this ain't fucking it. I don't live around Death, for one. And I'm sure as hell not some fucking private investigator hotel owner demon hound." Dean said these words and they sounded so stupid to his ears. When had his life turned on its fucking head? Oh yeah, remember Ambrose? You couldn't wait for the fucking TV repairman. _You_ had to go and fuck with shit and get yourself electrocuted. This is fucking karma.

"Hmm," the Taker said again.

"Hmm? Is that fucking it? Seriously, let me out of these fucking restraints and let me go talk to Seth and Roman. It doesn't matter that this is a bizarro land, at least I know them. At least they'll listen to me." He hoped.

"I'm listening to you right now. I am trying to get to the bottom of what happened here. I have met our Dean Ambrose. He has come close to me picking him up numerous times. I do think that the organ donor portion of your license is quite humorous, even. Better than most that I have seen. Although, it has not been your time as of yet, so I have merely observed then passed by." He cocked his head to one side and his eyes went from black to white and Dean felt like he was looking through him instead of at him. Dean hated that shit when he did it in his entrance. First, his entrance took eight or ten fucking minutes anyway. Who needed that much time? And second, really? Fucking white eyes?

"So, you think you are human."

"No, I _know_ I'm human. I'm just fucking dreaming right now; did you not get that?" Dean griped. He was getting tired of this place. He was tired of magical people… wow, he _NEVER_ thought he would think that. He just wanted to be in a nice normal place again. One where he didn't get attacked by fucking werewolves, even if they were Baron fucking Corbin. One where his brothers weren't apparently fucking demon hounds. One where he wasn't having a fucking face to face conversation with Death!

"You are not dreaming, you are here. This is real. I am real. And you, whoever you are, are real. You are _not_ Dean Ambrose, per se. I can see that, yes. But you still are… it is strange. I will need to read a little more on the topic." He looked at Dean for a moment longer and seemed to realize that there was no real danger here because he moved to remove the bindings on Dean's hands.

"Thanks," Dean mumbled while he rubbed his wrists where the ropes had been. "So, what am I then? I can tell you _one_ thing I fucking am… hungry. Nothing tastes right here. Everything is absolute shit. How do people even stand it?"

The Undertaker chuckled again, "What are you trying to eat? Human food?" Dean looked at him as if he had grown three heads… again, probably not a big issue in this world.

"Of course, I'm trying to eat human food! What the fucking hell would I eat? Dirt? Blood of innocent virgins? Small children?" Dean shouted. Enough was fucking enough. His blood sugar had to be dangerously low at this point and he was fucking hungry!

"Fel food, of course. You're a demon. Or at least, mostly demon right now. I'll get them to make you a plate upstairs. I need to tell them what I think is going on here anyway." The Undertaker stood and walked to the door of the cellar. "Stay here, I feel that I can trust that you will not try anything stupid. But," he said with a grin, "I will be locking the door anyway." He turned and walked through the door. Dean heard the click of a lock and looked around the cellar for anything that he could use to get out.

Inspecting the window, he was frustrated to find that the bars were extremely sturdy and there was no sign of a break anywhere where he would be able to escape. Although, he didn't really know where he would go if he did manage to escape. His brothers were apparently upstairs, so he couldn't go there. Argh, this fucking sucked.

Looking out the window again he saw a couple making out against the building across the street. They looked like normal people, until he saw the girl go all sparkly. Huh, what kind of magical thing did that?

As he was watching the couple - not spying mind you, just fucking watching because there was nothing else to fucking do down there - a dark figure slinked up behind the unassuming couple. He was wearing a hooded jacket and dark jeans. Nothing that would make him stand out in a crowd to anyone, except the one hand that had turned into a long bony claw. Those weren't werewolf claws. _Those weren't werewolf claws!_ Dean tried to yell out to the couple, tried to get them to notice the other guy. But they were either too much in their own world or they couldn't hear him through the thick glass. Either way, Dean got to enjoy the sight of the claw reaching around the throat of the man, slicing his neck clean through. He got to watch as the man's head rolled toward the window with hollow dead eyes and a slack-jawed look. He got to stand there while he watched that same bloody claw reach into the chest of the screaming sparkly woman and pull out her still beating heart. He felt his stomach roll as he watched the person, thing, fucking nasty claw dude, bring the heart to where his face was hidden by the hood and apparently _fucking eat it._

Fuck this place, Dean thought as he fainted.


End file.
